


we are electric hearts

by luninosity



Category: A Demon For Midwinter - K. L. Noone, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Crossover, Demons, Dimension Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Magic, at least as far as the ending of XMFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity
Summary: “You’re a what,” Erik said. He did not believe any of those words.“A demon,” said the demon, helpfully. “Well, half.”





	we are electric hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kernezelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda/gifts).



> Slightly belated birthday crossover fic for a lovely friend, as requested! I'm so entertained by this whole idea. :D
> 
> Title courtesy of the Neon Trees, this time.

“You’re a what,” Erik said. He did not believe any of those words.

“A demon,” said the demon, helpfully. “Well, half.” He did not precisely look like one, other than the very specific ways in which he did. The horns and the fiery hair—apparently literal fire—did more than suggest the supernatural. The black skinny jeans and violet t-shirt with a glittery shooting-star logo and the punk-rock black leather jacket were not elements Erik had heretofore associated with demons.

His fingers twitched. He had paper-clips in a pocket; the metal hummed silently, a comfort. He could protect them if need be.

He hadn’t been able to stop the glowing swoop of energy that’d crackled over himself and Charles, but he ignored that fact. He’d deal with it later. With sharpened paper-clips.

“Are you really?” Charles said. Charles had stepped out of the dimensional rift and instantly started chattering about telepathic signatures and new minds and elemental affinities, and was also looking at the supposed demon with far more interest than Erik liked. “Do you have any particular abilities in this dimension? Is it a genetic inheritance, then? And obviously there’s some compatibility with—”

“Charles,” Erik said, “he said he’s a demon. That’s not a _good_ sign.”

“You,” said the demon to Charles, “should totally meet my stepmom. And my brother. They can talk to you about _all_ the interdimensional science things. My name’s Justin, by the way, and this is Kris, and I guess we’re playing welcoming committee, since this is my aunt’s fault. Want coffee? Or chocolate-chip cookies? I can summon some.”

“Hey,” said Kris, who had shaggy hair and deep dark brown eyes and might’ve been a getting-older-but-happy rock-star on a day off. He had been regarding Erik and Charles and Justin with an expression Erik recognized: suspicious, protective, fond, and in love. Kris was also evidently English, or some sort of faded Americanized version; Erik’s brain scribbled mental notes just in case. Every drop of information might be useful. “Justin, you don’t even know them. You don’t need to feed them.”

“It’s not as if it’s _difficult_ ,” Justin said. The kitchen—which looked like a perfectly ordinary family kitchen’d had sexual relations with someone’s chemistry lab, given the complicated burners and bubbling over the stove and the shiny chrome mystery on the far counter—shrugged at them and concurred. No traces of crackling portal energy lingered. This might pose a problem.

“Why,” Erik said evenly, “are we here?” If he knew, he could try to keep Charles safe. They could get back to the mansion and the argument they’d been having about training and offensive versus defensive tactics.

He and Charles had a lot of arguments. They had ever since a beach and a submarine and a cruel man’s death and a bullet that’d hit Charles’ side. Erik had been deflecting them wildly from himself, and he’d both failed and then caught his error, with that one; he knew it could’ve been far worse. He had learned, with Charles’ blood staining his hands, about the cost of reckless singlemindedness; he had not been able to leave, in the aftermath.

But he had begun to wonder whether or not he should stay. Charles had not even tried to kiss him, since; of course healing had been necessary, and of course Erik did not expect Charles to love him; they’d never said those words in all the giddy road-trip hotels or white-hot passionate bedroom nights, even before the bullet. Erik was not the sort of monster anyone loved.

It was his own personal failing that he had fallen—angrily, unwantedly, unplanned—into love. He knew.

“Um….why as in what happened, or why you specifically?” Justin also had red eyes—not in the way most people used the phrase, but truly red, irises pleated with spices and scarlet—and they now looked a bit guilty.

“All of the above,” Charles said, with the glee of a born scientist encountering a newfound phenomenon. “Might there be tea? Earl Grey?”

“Totally, yeah.” Justin waved a hand. He had on pink nail polish, Erik observed. And had very long legs, and smiled at Charles, handing over a mug that had not existed a second before; their fingers touched.

Charles took a sip and beamed. “Delicious, thank you. And my name’s Charles Xavier, and this is Erik Lehnsherr.” Erik glowered. “We run a school for mutants—that is, people with abilities—Erik, stop glaring, we can trust them.”

“I’m not glaring,” Erik said. “I’m looking at them.”

“Yes, quite.” Charles went over to the oversized kitchen table and sat down; Justin, who’d taken a step that way almost simultaneously, looked surprised and then grinned but said nothing, and sat down with him. So did everyone else, by default. Justin handed out tea and coffee for the rest of them. Erik did not trust this.

“So,” Kris said, laid-back in the sense of a veteran performer evaluating an unpredictable room, “we think what happened was that Justin’s little sister quite likes comic books, these days…”

“And my aunt Raissa was visiting—”

“And Belle wished out loud that superheroes could be real—”

“And we all thought nothing happened, but then about five minutes ago all my mystical protections on this house stood up and shouted,” Justin finished. “So we popped over to check. Belle’s at tennis practice and I think Aunt Raissa went home. She’s sort of—”

“Daft.”

“She was trying to do something nice! Anyway, we got here just in time to see you show up.”

“Mystical protections?” Charles inquired. “Do you think that delayed the process? How do they—”

“Never mind that,” Erik said. “Can you get us home?”

“Um…maybe. I’m not as strong as any of my aunts.” Cookies had appeared. Justin was eating while talking. Kris nudged the plate closer to him, and an odd little ripple of concern ran through the room: Justin did not need to solve anyone else’s problems, particularly when he already did so much for so many people, when he might try something he wasn’t strong enough for…

Erik blinked. Charles had set down his tea and was watching Justin with big soft worried blue eyes. Kris was also watching Justin.

“All right,” Erik said, “talk. What are you doing to us?”

“Oh, shit,” Justin said, and poked Kris’s arm. “Stop that. Sorry, guys, my husband is an impressively strong empath.”

“Ah,” Charles said. “That explains that. I’m impressed; I normally have good shields.” To Justin, he added softly, “And he loves you very much, you know, that’s lovely,” and for a second something else hung in the air unspoken: whatever memory Charles had seen or felt or picked up while being a sponge, where telepathy met empathy, that made the sympathy and compassion tangible.

Husband, Erik thought. Good.

He said, “Are abilities common on your world? Accepted?” Justin had said it so casually.

“Mostly,” Justin said. “Most people can do little stuff. Minor weather manipulation, telekinesis, low-range, things like that. My sister talks to animals. It’s not like that for you?”

“It isn’t,” Kris said, “for you.” This _you_ meant Justin. “Demons. The not-human. There’s still prejudice.”

“So it’s not a perfect world,” Erik said.

“It isn’t,” Justin answered, cinnamon-spice eyes abruptly serious, “but we’re trying. And the trying matters. If it’s not perfect for us, it’ll be better for everyone after us, and everyone who sees us out there being ourselves. That’s important.”

“It is,” Charles said. He was gazing at Justin as if at a treasure. “It is. Please don’t harm yourself attempting to get us home.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Justin tipped that head, speculative. The fireflower hair leapt up more. “Thanks for not caring about the whole horns and brimstone thing, by the way. I normally look more human, but having the protections go off kind of triggered the demon reflexes. It’s fading.”

“You’d fit in, in our world,” Erik said, and then stopped, startled. “Not the world at large. Humans don’t trust mutants. But…Charles’s world. Where we live.”

“Erik,” Charles said, “you said _our_ world.”

“Did I,” Erik said. “Why was it us, specifically?”

“Um,” Justin said. “It’s only a guess.”

“Try.”

“I _think_ it’s…location and emotion?” Those inhuman eyes flicked from Erik to Charles and back. Kris slid an arm around him. “I’m not sure. Where were you? Generally speaking.”

“Westchester,” Charles said. “Upstate New York.”

“So’re we,” Justin said. “Not Westchester, but close enough. And I think…because of what my family is, they’re sort of…drawn to passion…and were you feeling particularly…passionate?”

Erik choked on nothing.

“In a sense,” Charles said. “We were rather having a disagreement. But I do see what you mean.”

He did? Erik tried to process this.

“I can try to send you back,” Justin said. “To…your world.” His _your_ took in both Erik and Charles, together. “If you want me to try now. If it doesn’t work I’ll get one of the aunts to come over, but I think I can.”

“Should you eat more?” Kris said.

“There’s so much more we could learn…” Charles said. “But yes, we should be getting back…who knows what disasters Alex and Sean have wrought in our absence…”

Kris lifted eyebrows. “You two have kids?”

“We do not,” Erik said, simultaneously with Charles’, “Effectively, yes.”

“Oh, Erik,” Charles said. “You know they’re ours. Our family.”

“I don’t,” Erik began, and halted, because he could not say _I don’t want a family_ and mean it with any truth.

He looked at Kris. “If that’s you again, in my head—”

Kris held up hands. “Not me.”

“By the way,” Justin put in offhandedly, “I’m specifically technically kind of a sex demon? If you were wondering.”

“Charles,” Erik said, “we are leaving _now_.”

“No, no, not whatever you’re thinking!” Justin had started giggling. “Though, for the record, you’re both gorgeous and I so would, but only if Kris said yes, I’m totally his, and I like it that way. No, I only meant I can feel how much you love each other. Well, and how much you _want_ each other, which, like, that’s a lot of pent-up tension, so maybe find a babysitter for the kids? But that kind of love…it’s sort of epic. I like feeling it.”

Erik could not look at Charles, but dared a glimpse after a second. Charles was blushing fiercely, but also laughing, because Charles was rarely embarrassed for long.

But some other emotion flickered, a stray escaping thought buoyed by someone else’s empathy: a want, a wish, a wistful resignation. Charles thought all that emotion was one-sided: his own side.

For a telepath, this was remarkably wrong. Erik, who could never not tell Charles when he was wrong, said, “Charles—” and realized he’d been about to say _you idiot, of course I love you_.

“Oh, well,” Charles said airily, “we’ll see what we can do when we get back, perhaps. And you can do that, er, very athletic thing you’re thinking of, with your husband. Assuming you feel well enough.”

“I can take care of him,” Kris said.

“Telepaths,” Justin complained, not seriously. “And empaths. Oh, well, I’m kind of used to it. Okay, let’s see what kind of distance we’re working with…”

He got up. He waved a hand. Everything in the kitchen—bubbling science-experiment mysteries, cookies, countertops—leaned in closer, eager, suddenly more sharply defined.

Kris got up too. Hand on Justin’s shoulder. Support physical and emotional. Tension shivering, rising.

Justin wiggled fingertips, frowned a little, flexed them in and out. “I’ll admit I’m better with places I’ve seen…”

“Oh, of course.” Charles came over. Touched Justin’s arm. Eyes going distant. Those powers, shimmering into a connection. “Here, have a look.”

“Oh!” Justin said. “Oh, that’s a really _nice_ memory, I can feel—”

“Er,” Charles said hastily. “How’s this, instead?”

Kris and Erik exchanged glances. Erik found unanticipated sympathy for Justin’s husband, along with vast curiosity about marriage to a sex demon.

Sex reminded him of Charles, and wanting, and—

“Ah,” Justin said, “got it, ow, okay, this feels _weird_ ,” and the air twisted and bloomed with fire and split apart. Through the rift, recognizable bedroom furniture waited: solid and heavy, antique and real, promising the future.

“Justin,” Kris said, apprehensive.

Justin let out a small hiss of annoyance. “It’s sort of prickly. Like the universes know this isn’t normal. It doesn’t hurt, that's not the right word, but I don’t think I can hold it that long. I’m not sure the human part of me should be able to do this.” In sizzling multihued light, he’d become less human already: sharper ears, horns, cheekbones, teeth.

Kris turned to Erik and Charles, and Erik reevaluated that shaggy brown hair and those time-battered eyes on the spot, because Kris had been holding back all along, and was as dangerous as Charles, if he’d chosen to be—that emotion did not hit like a thunderclap, but only because Kris was palpably restraining himself, and the storm could snap outward and shove the world into motion if he threw enough persuasion at it—

Erik’s pocket paperclips drifted upward, ready. Justin looked interested.

“I told you I’d take care of him,” Kris said. “Go on.”

“We’re going,” Erik said. “Charles—”

“Of course, yes.” Charles stopped, though, and actually squeezed Justin’s shoulder. “Thank you. Do you think, if we could find a way to talk more—I’d love to talk to you about your abilities, and perhaps a bit about—well—”

“I’d like that.” Justin grinned back. “We’ll work on it, on this end. With my aunts and my brother’s gateway research, we’ll figure something out. But also, can I try something real quick? You know what I’m thinking.”

Charles blinked, started laughing, and leaned in and up and kissed him. On the lips. Still laughing, and casual, but not uninterestedly, either; that kiss went on longer than it should’ve.

Kris started to speak, paused, said, “Oh, got it,” and glanced at Erik, not even bothering to hide the smirk.

Erik glared more. Grabbed Charles’s hand. Tugged him away from the sex demon. “Charles—”

“Hmm?” Charles still looked happy and delighted and a bit too dreamy, which meant there had to be some nefarious power at work, so Erik pulled him in closer and said desperately, “Charles,” and kissed him.

Thoroughly. Resoundingly. Wholeheartedly.

Justin applauded. Then winced. “It’s like the inside of my head _itches_.”

“Oh, Erik,” Charles said. “I do love you.”

“You do?” Erik said, and then, “Of course you do. And I love you.”

“You two can leave now,” Kris said. “And _yes_ , love, I felt you pushing that bit my way, about how you felt and what you wanted to do and why, I got it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not getting scolded for it later. Once you’re recovered.”

“I said it doesn’t hurt exactly—”

“Once _I’m_ satisfied you’re recovered.” Kris’s worry and insistence poked tendrils into the sides of Erik’s mind; Justin was looking a little more pale, aside from the fire-accessories.

“We’re going,” Erik said, holding Charles’s hand. He did not say the thank-you, not aloud, but he caught Justin’s eye, and nodded. Justin smiled back.

He stepped through fire with Charles at his side, and landed in their bedroom, among messy sheets and a chess game that’d spent two days unfinished; he turned, and saw a demon and a demon’s husband waving, from another world.

He lifted a hand. So did Charles.

The gap dwindled, faded, closed.

Charles let out a breath. “So.” He had not let go of Erik’s hand.

“So,” Erik said. “Other dimensions. Other worlds. Demons. Sex demons. One of whom you’ve kissed.”

“You know why,” Charles said.

“Yes. You wanted to annoy me.”

“And it worked,” Charles said, eyebrows up, familiar and bright-eyed and beloved. “And I want you here. In our world. I do hope they’re all right, over there.”

“They’re fine. Kris can take care of his husband. And I’m sure all of you collectively will work out interdimensional communication, now that you know it’s possible.” He wanted to put arms around Charles; he wanted to say _I want to stay with you, forever_.

He said, voice rough, “Ours, you said. This world. Where we…keep trying.”

“Yes,” Charles said, and put arms around him. “Yes, Erik, all of that, forever, yes.”


End file.
